| |
They moved from building to building, securing one point before moving onto the next.
Leopov was already convinced that there was no one else in this godforsaken ninth circle of hell, but the men were methodical, following a routine that had been drilled into them. This was not part of her world, not something she had been exposed to before, at least not in any kind of meaningful way where there was the risk that one mistake could leave you, back turned to a real live gunman. She had been through basic training, but nothing that could have prepared her for this. She had been recruited into intelligence before any risk of being thrown into a combat zone ever became a reality. To the other men around her this was, or at least had been, a way of life.
She was in their hands.
She had no intention of doing anything other than what they told her to do, and doing that to the letter.
The door of the next shack along hung open.
Snow and ice had drifted inside, giving the whole floor a covering of white that crunched underfoot as she entered. She saw no sign of life inside, no sign of anyone having been there for weeks, months, perhaps even longer. A single stool lay upturned beside the sink.
“Stay there,” Willis said.
She waited for the few moments it took him and Shaw to check the rest of the building while Lewis waited outside with her. There was very little to check. She would have preferred to have stayed inside the room where the fire was starting to win the fight to stay alive, but she knew that would be failing in her mission. She had been tasked to discover whatever she could about the Russian operations on the island provided she could do it without putting herself in danger. And she wanted Maddock’s team to trust her. Trust wasn’t automatic. It was earned. Hence coming out here. The rest of the team were more than capable of carrying out the mission, but she was acting as the eyes and ears of those higher up the chain of command. She didn’t like having secrets from the men to whom she had entrusted her life, but her orders had been clear. It was need-to-know and they didn’t need to know.
“Clear,” Willis said as he re-emerged into the main room. “Let’s move on.”
Leopov took one last look around, but there was nothing to learn there; nothing to tell her who might have been staying in this place, why they had been there or why they’d left. Maybe it had been used as an outpost for the Russians. It could just as easily have been the home for a few families eking out an existence from whatever they could fish up from beneath the ice. Whichever it was, it didn’t look as if it had been much of a life.
The next three building were the same. In one they found a photograph of a small girl and a pair of handprints in green paint on a piece of paper taped to the wall. It was the first thing she’d seen that was even remotely personal. They found odds and ends of possessions in the other huts, but all had been practical. This showed that there had been someone real here; ordinary people living mundane lives. The revelation only added to the disquiet she felt knowing that they had left behind things that they probably thought precious.
If there had been locks on any of the shacks, none of them had been secured. Each time they were able to push the doors open once they’d overcome the resistance of frozen and rusted hinges. Only one building remained secure; a square structure constructed from concrete blocks. Snow had drifted up against one side of it, partly obscuring the single door. Willis placed a gloved hand on the handle and tried to turn it. It moved a little, but the door wasn’t budging an inch.
“Locked?” Leopov asked. As the words left her lips she half expected a sarcastic reply, but instead he just nodded and stepped back.
“You want me to go and find something to open it?” Shaw asked.
“Naw, man,” Willis said. “I’ve got it covered.”
He pointed his gun at the lock.
Leopov instinctively took a couple of steps back.
She was not particularly fond of guns, no matter how familiar she might have been with them. It was something she had to deal with; something she couldn’t avoid coming into contact with, given her stock in trade, but it didn’t mean that she had to like them. Respect them, yes. Be familiar with handling them, absolutely, but like them? No. By the third shot the wood around the lock on the door was splintered and the handle hung off to the side.
“Back in Detroit we call this an urban skeleton key,” Willis smiled. “It opens just about anything one way or another.”
He pushed the door wide open.
The building had been locked, but that didn’t mean abandoned or occupied. Simply locked. No risks. They were doing this by the book, sweeping the place. One thing was sure though, if anyone waited inside, they now knew they had visitors.
Leopov felt her heart beating in her chest as if it was banging on her ribs in an attempt to force a way out.
She waited outside for a moment as the men went in.
Counting it out until she heard someone calling to her.
“Lieutenant,” the voice said first, then more urgently. “Hey, Leopov!”
It was the first time that anyone had used her name. It wasn’t her first name, but these guys didn’t use first names. It was a landmark moment, but she wasn’t going to relish it. She was still an outsider, even if they knew her name.
But she had a chance to become part of the team, at least for the duration of this mission.
“Coming.” She trusted them to have given the place a thorough sweep and made sure it was clean.
As she entered the first room she heard a voice she did not recognize.
It spoke in Russian.